


Hate

by suchasoftersin



Category: Ed Banger Records - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchasoftersin/pseuds/suchasoftersin





	Hate

Xavier fucking hates snow.

It’s funny, really, because Gaspard likes the stuff. So when they’re staying overnight in some midwest town where there’s a fresh coat of white on the ground, Romain decides they should film more outside. Gaspard agrees almost instantly because it’s something to do and Xavier relents because it’s easier than fighting about it. He figures that he’ll just go and that’s it, he’s not fucking doing anything because it’s cold outside.

Somehow they end up at a park, buried under the snow with barren trees everywhere. Xavier lingers at the top of the hill, looking down at all of the endless white while Gaspard continues down, Romain following closely behind with the camera practically glued to his head. Bertrand’s hovering with his own camera, filming Xavier with a smile as he scoops up a handful of snow with his bare hands. He presses it together with both hands, compressing it, before he aims for Gaspard. The snowball wasn’t the best, somewhat falling apart in the air, but Xavier’s aim is perfect and it nails Gaspard in the back of the head. Gaspard isn’t phased and continues walking, reaching up to try and get the snow out of his curls.

Both Bertrand and Xavier chuckle, watching Gaspard continue his trek down the hill. Xavier wipes his hands on his jacket and hopes to regain feeling in his fingers sometime soon. After a few seconds, he turns to look at Bertrand as he digs his cigarettes out of his front pocket with numb fingers. It takes longer than usual but he finally manages to light one.

Bertrand chuckles as he struggles to stick the lighter back into his pocket, “anything wrong?”

Xavier doesn’t answer right away, trying to squeeze his lighter into his pants before he manages to drop it in the snow. “I fucking hate snow,” he growls even though every one already knows that. It only succeeds in making Bertrand even more amused but Xavier could care less right now because he finally gets his lighter to cooperate.

Bertrand starts talking to him again, asking questions with the camera rolling the whole time. Xavier doesn’t seem to mind - he’s had cameras following him everywhere for a while now - and he answers in-between puffs off of his cigarette. He asks about Gaspard and Xavier turns to look down the hill, seeing no sign of the man in question. He cups his hands over his mouth, cigarette momentarily forgotten, “Gaspard!”

They’re expecting him to yell back and let them know where he is, but nothing happens. It’s oddly quiet, the wind picking up and sending a chill up Xavier’s spine uneasily. His eyes fall back to Bertrand who looks just as curious, camera unfocused now. Xavier considers yelling again but brushes it off before he takes a slow drag off of his cigarette. Wordlessly, he nods forward to show that he’s going to walk down. Bertrand nods back to show that he understands before he moves so that he can stand behind the musician.

The snow here is deep, only just barely shoveled off of the sidewalk. Xavier figures they can use this to their advantage, just find the footprints and follow them until they find Gaspard. The plan sounded better in his head because after a few minutes, he realizes that there aren’t any footprints. It’s a little eerie and Xavier looks around once more, seeing only trees and snow in every direction - beside Bertrand and himself. He tries once more, “Gaspard!”

It’s quiet as they wait again, trying to listen for any sign of the missing man. It’s Bertrand who spots him first and Xavier follows his line of sight when he turns the camera. Gaspard is trudging through the snow slowly, Romain a few feet behind him. Xavier plans on asking why he didn’t answer when they yelled but the question dies on his tongue when he notices what’s in Gaspard’s hand. It’s a chunk of snow bigger than his hand, all compacted but still looking like it could fall apart at any second. The way that Gaspard is looking at him has Xavier frowning, really hoping that he has enough sense not to do it.

“Gaspard, don’t.” It seems like his words have the opposite effect because he starts walking faster, covering the distance between them. Xavier tries once more, voice unwavering, “I mean it.” Gaspard smirks and Xavier’s smart enough to know what that means so he turns on his heel and runs. He doesn’t bother the risk of turning around to check, but he’s sure that Gaspard is running to catch up to him now. He has the headstart, though, and he’s using that to his advantage.

His downfall is that it doesn’t take long for him to run out of breath, smoking so much finally catching up to him. His last plan is a risky one; he’s going to try to use one last short burst of energy to try and put enough space between them that he’ll be safe. It’s not the best plan but he figures it’s the best that he’s got and it might end up working. He gathers his energy and then he’s off, trying to take longer strides to cover more distance. All he can see is white, snow in every direction and it’s not ideal to run in.

That observation is proven a few seconds later as Xavier loses his balance. His arms fly out to his sides, trying to keep himself from falling but he’s running too fast. It’s like it happens in slow motion, Xavier knows that he’s going to fall and he tries to do it as painlessly as possible. He falls to his knees but his speed was too fast and soon he’s all but eating snow. Annoyed, he continues to lay on the ground, cursing the snow. He’s cold but he’s mad as well, frowning as he looks at the tree a few feet in front of him. He can hear footsteps and he knows it’s Gaspard and Romain, even though they’re not running. Bertrand is chuckling quietly from behind his camera a few feet away. Xavier hopes that this isn’t going to make it into the final film.

“Come on.” Gaspard’s hands are warm on his skin as he helps him up, pulling at his arms to get him to his feet. The first thing he notices is the small smile tugging the end of his lips, his eyes amused. It makes Xavier’s temper flare and he yanks his arm out of Gaspard’s grip.

“I’m done,” he huffs and starts back up the hill, “I want to go back to the hotel.” They must be following him but he doesn’t turn around to check, not too bothered if they weren’t.

They make it back to the hotel easily even though Xavier refuses to speak because he’s annoyed. Romain and Bertrand discuss what they’ve filmed already and Gaspard tries to get him to join in a few times. It’s finally silent as they make their way to their rooms, Gaspard and Xavier sharing one. It’s one bed but so is all of the other rooms as well, everyone pairing up to sleep but for the most part, no one minds because it’s finally a proper bed to sleep in.

Xavier opens the door and leaves it open for Gaspard, who closes it behind him. He kicks his shoes off by the foot of the bed, instantly going to his belt because his jeans are soggy and uncomfortable. Lazily, he kicks them to the side as well, he’ll probably wear them again after they dry. Gaspard’s sitting on the bed, watching as he peels his shirt off and throws it onto the bed. Xavier makes his way to the bathroom now, making sure not to look back when he shimmies out of his boxers as well. 

It’s cold and there’s goosebumps on his skin as he turns on the shower. He hovers away from the spray as he waits for it to heat up. Once it starts to steam a little, he moves so that he’s standing beneath it. His initial reaction is that it’s way too hot but he doesn’t move, waiting until he’s used to it and his muscles relax from the warmth seeping in. He closes his eyes and thanks hotels for hot showers even when it’s a winter wonderland outside.

He can hear Gaspard’s footsteps on the tile, shuffling out of his clothes, too. Xavier sighs and rolls his eyes; he isn’t in the mood, he’s still annoyed with him from earlier. He considers saying something but then Gaspard’s there, sliding in behind him with ease that an awkward giant normally doesn’t have. Xavier refuses to turn around and acknowledge him, hoping that it’s a big enough hint that he’s still mad. He concentrates on the wall, watching stray water droplets as they trail down the tile. 

His concentration is broken when there are suddenly hands on his shoulder, big and warm as they press lightly. Gaspard starts massaging the skin he can reach, pads of his thumbs pressing into Xavier’s shoulder blades. It’s nice and he moves all the way up onto his neck, working a knot of the base that he finds there. Xavier’s whole body is relaxing, sore muscles from days of sleeping in cramped bunks are untensing. He planned on pushing Gaspard away but now his body is betraying him, starting to relax back into him instead.

Gaspard’s hands move slowly over skin, working down his back easily. He’s pressing into sore muscle he finds there, making Xavier fall back into the touches more and more. After a while, he’s afraid the younger man is going to fall and his hands wrap around him and he presses his chest into his back. His hands linger on his ribs, splaying out over all of the skin he finds there. He can feel the slow, steady expanse of skin rise every time the man takes a breath and it’s comforting in some way.

He leans close, mouth next to Xavier’s ear, “let me, yes?” Xavier couldn’t argue even if he tried, his eyes falling shut because he knows what’s about to come. Gaspard bites a soft spot just under his ear and it has Xavier squirming already. It seems like he isn’t going to be teased today, something the younger man is thankful for, as Gaspard’s hands start a slow trek down Xavier’s sides. The lingering touches are leaving goosebumps on his skin even though the shower is warm from all the steam rising around them.

When Gaspard finally gets there, he lingers for a second longer on the dip of Xavier’s sharp hips. It’s the worst place to stop and even though he’s only half hard, he’s pressing back into Gaspard as he juts his hips out for attention. Again he is thankful that Gaspard is not teasing today because he takes the hint and (finally) wraps his hand around his cock. The angle is actually an advantage, Xavier is pushed back enough that Gaspard’s hand moves easily, slick with water. It has Xavier wanting to press forward, his body trying by itself and not succeeding because of Gaspard anchoring him in place with his free arm. The younger man feels trapped but Gaspard’s hand is big and warm and perfect and he whimpers.

“I know,” Gaspard shushes him, mouth next to his ear as his hand slides over his chest. The small touch has Xavier whimpering again, quieter this time because he doesn’t want any teasing right now. It seems that Gaspard’s plans have changed because his hand on Xavier’s cock slows, now a leisurely pace that has the younger man trying to buck into his fist. Gaspard doesn’t allow it, moving down to hold Xavier’s hips once more and Xavier thinks this is pure torture now. After a few strokes up his length that feel like minutes, he realizes that he’s going to have to try if he wants it.

“Please,” he begs, voice rough. He’s expecting the pace to pick up but it doesn’t, just stays painfully slow.

“Tomorrow we’re going out again,” Gaspard says, voice even like his hand isn’t on Xavier’s cock right now. For good measure, Xavier tries bucking up once more but it’s a futile attempt when he’s still held back. He whines and Gaspard continues, “are you going with us?” He licks the shell of Xavier’s ear and it makes him shiver before he adds, “good boys get rewarded.”

“Yes,” Xavier moans before he even completely registers the words. Then, afraid that that’s not enough, “please.” That seems to be the magic word because Gaspard starts moving his hand faster, pumping Xavier’s cock like he wanted. It’s so surprising from the slow pace that it makes Xavier moan as his head falls back onto Gaspard’s shoulder. The older man takes advantage of this, instantly finding that spot on the side of Xavier’s neck to leave a mark. It has Xavier tilting his head to give Gaspard better access even while he’s trying to thrust into his hand.

“Do you want to come?” Xavier whimpers at the words, trying to nod his head. Gaspard thinks it’s not good enough so he nips at his skin and tries again, “do you want to come?” The stinging on his skin has Xavier whimpering all over again.

Before Gaspard can do it again, he finds his voice, “p-please.” It’s the most pitiful thing he’s ever heard and he’s half ashamed that it came out of his mouth but the other half of him is horny and doesn’t care. It works, though, because Gaspard somehow manages to tighten his fist just enough, his pinky continuing to catch in all the right places. Xavier’s legs are weak but he picks up the pace with his hips, driving them harder as best as he can. His hands are gripping Gaspard’s biceps, probably leaving marks of his blunt fingernails from the strength behind it. 

“Close?” All Xavier can do it make a noise in answer, something deep from his throat that sounds like a growl. Another noise comes spilling out of his mouth a second later when Gaspard starts abusing all of the skin he can reach with his mouth. He’s so close, the familiar burn and ache sitting his lower stomach, and his thrusts are becoming sloppy with no real rythem behind them. Gaspard can feel it, too, because he’s smiling into Xavier’s neck as he watches his own hand working. “Come for me.”

It’s Gaspard voice, command, that undoes him. His whole body locks up, muscles straining all over again even as his hips continue to shallowly thrust. Gaspard continue moving his hand as well, his left hand subconsciously rubbing circles into the side of Xavier’s hip. He’s momentarily afraid that he’ll have to clean stains off of the tiled wall but it seems the shower’s big enough to avoid it. He watches the off-white splatter into the middle near their feet and then get swept up into the current and down the drain.

Without warning, Xavier’s whole body goes slack and Gaspard quickly wraps both hands around his waist to keep him standing. Gaspard is thankful for hotel showers because the water is still lukewarm and that means they have enough time to actually clean up. Gaspard moves back now, taking Xavier with him until they’re under the spray completely. It’s not the first time he’s washed Xavier, sometimes because he’s too drunk to do it himself and sometimes just because he wants to - today he just wants to. He’s got shampoo in Xavier’s hair by the time the younger speaks, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” It’s something he’s used to, he doesn’t get upset by the words. It’s silent before he continues, “now tilt your head back.” Xavier doesn’t argue and he complies, his eyes closing as he does so. Gaspard starts to work on running his hands through his hair, washing all of the bubbles out slowly. Even after they’re gone, he spends extra time toying with Xavier’s hair, just soothing it down. There’s not much hot water left, though, so he lets go in favor of the soap. 

Once he’s done scrubbing Xavier down - almost literally! - he moves to turn the water off by leaning over Xavier’s shoulder. The smaller man doesn’t move until Gaspard does, being tugged out of the shower by his hand. The air on their skin is cold and Gaspard doesn’t waste any time heading for their suitcases. Towels are unneeded, they barely use them, and Xavier whines as he waits. Gaspard rolls his eyes and throws him back a pair of boxers he manages to dig out of the mess of their clothes. He finds a pair for himself, too, and is able to slip them on without falling even though his balance is a little wobbly. When he turns around, Xavier is patiently waiting for a shirt but he has other plans instead.

“Bed,” is he only thing he says as he reaches for Xavier’s hand. He’s thankful that Xavier’s in a better mood and allows himself to be led willingly and Gaspard only stops to pull back the covers of their shared bed. He motions towards it and Xavier takes the hint and crawls in, burying himself under the blanket instantly. Gaspard follows, squishing himself close to the other man and even though their hair is still damp, they don’t seem to mind.

It’s silent for a few minutes and Gaspard’s sure that Xavier has fallen asleep now. He’s on the brink of unconsciousness himself when Xavier suddenly speaks, voice quiet and raspy in the dark, “I hate you and I hate snow.” Gaspard would usually take the time to point out that Xavier doesn’t actually hate him, he’s just irritated, but he’s so tired that he lets it pass just this once. He’ll just mention it when they wake up.


End file.
